


A Light in the Dark

by AgentMalkere



Series: Dynamically Challenged [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dom/Sub/Switch, Angst, Fluff, Get Together, M/M, The Author Regrets Nothing, angst-fluff, dom!Iruka, sub!Kakashi, the Angst in way more hardcore than the D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 12:25:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8445745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentMalkere/pseuds/AgentMalkere
Summary: Kakashi is walking a knife’s edge, and he knows it.  Every day he's teetering closer and closer to self-destruction, and there isn’t a damn thing he can do.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In this universe, whether a person is a dom/sub/switch is a matter of brain chemistry.
> 
> _**A little bit of this world's jargon:**_  
>  _Dynamic_ \- whether a person is a dom, sub, or switch  
>  _Switch_ \- a person who has the mental needs of both a dom and a sub and can act in either role  
>  _Dynamic Denial_ \- when a person ignores their dynamic to the point of causing severe mental harm to themselves; this can have long term psychological consequences   
> _Force Down_ \- when a sub or switch is unwillingly forced into this universe's variation of subspace   
> _Soft Spot_ \- a place on a sub's body that makes them feel safe when another person holds it and makes it easier to enter their subspace; dynamic denial in a sub causes their soft spot to become hyper-sensitized

Kakashi was walking a knife’s edge, and he knew it.  Every day he was teetering closer and closer to self-destruction, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do.  Minato-sensei and Kushina and Rin were all gone.  (Obito was gone.)  There was no one left that he trusted enough to turn to for help.  He’d been meditating like sensei had taught him, but Kakashi had spent so many years in severe dynamic denial that the meditating was more of a stopgap measure.  He couldn’t rely on that alone like most unattached subs.  He needed outside help.  (And wasn’t that galling?  After so many years of priding himself on his independence, he’d accidentally forced himself into a situation where he was dependent on others.)

It was starting to effect his actions in the field again.  His soft spot was starting to become a major liability once more.  Kakashi was an ANBU captain.  Nobody had said anything, yet, but they would soon.  If he didn’t figure things out, he’d be putting other people in danger – his comrades.  (Never again.  He’d never let that happen again.)  He had to find a dom he could _trust_.  (There was no one left.  He was all alone.  His faith had been broken one too many times.)  And the depressing part was that Kakashi was trying.  He was trying _so damn hard_ , but he’d never been good at trusting people.  (Asking for help was terrifying.)  He’d gone (mortifyingly) to Gai for assistance only once – it had been a complete and unmitigated disaster.

Kakashi estimated that he had maybe two months before things became critical and he was forced to resign to stop himself from becoming a burden and a danger to his fellow shinobi.  (He had made it years past the point where most shinobi burnt out of ANBU anyway.)

Kakashi shoved his right hand deeper in his pants pocket and tried to focus on the book he was reading.  It wasn’t Icha Icha – it just _looked_ like Icha Icha because of the genjutsu Kakashi had put on it.  Honestly, he loved Jiraiya’s book, but he had it memorized at this point (one of the advantages – and disadvantages – of an obscenely good memory).  Reading the same thing over and over got boring, but Kakashi had a reputation to maintain (and he didn’t particularly want people noting that he’d read most of the contents of the library over the past several years).  If anybody started looking too closely, he’d just quote one of the random sex scenes that Jiraiya threw in until the person stopped.  Reading was relaxing – not as effective as meditation, but at this point every little bit helped.

It was a testament to just how out of hand things were getting that Kakashi was so focused on his reading that he walked straight into somebody.  Kakashi dropped his book as the chuunin’s papers and groceries went flying everywhere.  ( _Shit_.  Make that, at most, a month and a half before he was forced to resign.)  He snatched eleven pieces of paper out of the air before they fluttered to the ground, but many more escaped to acquire a liberal coating of dust.  Kakashi dropped to his knees and gathered up the papers he had missed before anybody could trample them.  The chuunin was scrambling to rescue his groceries.  One tomato had already been lost to a civilian’s careless shoe.  Kakashi glanced down at the stack of papers he had retrieved.  They look like quizzes on beginner chakra theory.

He looked up to find the chuunin holding a ruined carton of eggs in one hand and Kakashi’s open book in the other.  The man blinked in surprise at the contents and then double checked the genjutsu-ed cover.

“The history of Tea Country, huh?”  The chuunin raised an eyebrow at him, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a small, playful grin like he’d been let in on some marvelous secret.  It reminded Kakashi just a touch of Kushina.  Kakashi plucked the book from his hand and replaced it with the slightly dirt-stained stack of quizzes.

“I keep telling people there’s more to Icha Icha than just porn, but they never believe me.”  Kakashi eye smiled as he tucked the book away into one of his vest pockets and made a mental note to put a genjutsu on the contents as well as the cover next time.  He stood and offered the chuunin a hand up.  “Sorry about your groceries.  I should have been paying better attention to where I was going.”

The chuunin accepted his hand and a faint tingle ran up Kakashi’s arm like something out of Jiraiya’s book.  (There was a certain tilt to the chuunin’s smile, an innate confidence in the way he held himself.  Must be a dom.)

“Well, I should have been, too, but I suppose you could repay me by taking me out to dinner.”  The chuunin paused and then laughed a little awkwardly, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  “Sorry, was that too forward?  It’s just, that’s probably the best long-term prank I’ve run across in ages.”

Prank?  Oh, he must mean Kakashi’s genjutsu-ed book.  (He’d never thought of it that way before.)  Kakashi stared at the man in well-hidden bewilderment for a moment, because this sort of thing just didn’t happen to him.  Most people assumed Kakashi was a dom even though he hadn’t really played up the part in years.  (Sometimes other subs flirted with him.  He found that very uncomfortable.)  No one had ever asked him out, even in a roundabout way.

Kakashi opened his mouth to say, ‘How about I just give you some money for the eggs and tomato, instead,’ but something in the back of his brain hijacked his vocal cords and what actually came out was,

“Do you like barbeque?”

The chuunin beamed at him.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”  He held out his hand.  “I’m Iruka Unimo, by the way.”

Kakashi shook the proffered hand.

“Kakashi Hatake.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kakashi-san.”  Iruka actually sounded like he meant it.  How weird was that?

 

Iruka was strange.  He was kind, funny, intelligent, and attractive, easy to like.  He also had a protective streak a mile wide and was the only chuunin Kakashi had ever met who was willing to go toe-to-toe with the Hokage when he disagreed with the man about something.  That wasn’t what was strange about him though.  The strange part was that he seemed to enjoy spending time with Kakashi.  Kakashi didn’t understand that.  It was just… not something that sane people did, and Iruka seemed to be awfully sane.  (That was probably why he was content to remain a chuunin.  Nobody who was sailing even on their mental keel became a jounin.)  He didn’t seem to have some sort of ulterior motive either.  It was confusing.

Usually social interaction came about as naturally to Kakashi as pulling teeth but with Iruka it felt easy.  When Iruka asked him questions, he actually wanted to answer them honestly.  Instead of being hours late (like he generally was for everything these days that wasn’t a mission), Kakashi was only a few minutes late when he was supposed to be meeting with Iruka, because… he looked forward to seeing him.  (And that fact was sort of frightening.)  The only reason he wasn’t on time was because Iruka did this overdramatic eye roll when he showed up late.  Iruka joked with him, teased him, lent him books.  Nobody had really done that since Minato and Kushina died.  It made Kakashi feel… safe.

(It was terrifying.  It was a miracle.  It was going to hurt _so much worse_ when this all inevitably fell apart.  And it would.  Everything Kakashi touched eventually turned to dust and death.  It always did.)

Iruka was petrifyingly easy to trust. 

 

Forty-seven days after he bumped into Iruka for the first time, Kakashi’s situation finally reached critical mass.  He could only be grateful that it had happened during training and not on an actual mission.  He was sparring with Tenzou, and his naïve little kouhai saw an opening in Kakashi’s defense and took advantage of it.  Tenzou caught Kakashi by the back of his neck (his soft spot and, damn it, Kakashi had been sloppy, sloppy, _sloppy_ ).  Kakashi went out like a light.  He woke up lying on his back with a slightly frantic Tenzou hovering over him.

“Sempai!  What happened?  Are you hurt?”

“No, I’ll be fine.”  Kakashi sat up and clenched his hands to keep them from shaking.  Tenzou was a switch.  He shouldn’t have been able to do that – not without a great deal of conscious effort.  Kakashi was officially a danger to himself and others.  “Good job.  Keep working – I need to go talk to our illustrious commander.”

Kakashi asked for a week off.  The commander took one, narrow-eyed look at Kakashi’s shuddering muscles and told him gruffly, “You have two.  Fix this.”

Kakashi changed out of his ANBU armor and headed back to his apartment.  There was only one solution to this problem, and Kakashi knew what it was.  Or rather, _who_ it was.

Iruka.

Knowing that the chuunin (his friend?) was his only way out of this hole he’d dug himself into didn’t make the idea of asking for help any less overwhelming.  Kakashi let himself in to his bleak little shoebox of an apartment.  He sat on the edge of his bed and let his head drop into his hands.  How did he do this?  (How did he stop this from blowing up in his face like it always did?) 

Then a half-forgotten memory rose to the surface of his mind.

_He was eight, and he hadn’t spoken once in the three days since he’d found his father’s body on the ground.  Minato knelt next to him and ran a hand through Kakashi’s hair._

_“I know words are hard right now, ‘Kashi.”  A pencil and pad of paper were pressed gently into small hands.  “Try writing them down instead.”_

Kakashi lifted his head and looked over at his desk.  The latest book that Iruka had lent him sat of the corner.  He stood up and started looking for a piece of paper. 

 

Iruka opened his apartment door and looked surprised to find Kakashi on the other side.  Probably because Kakashi far preferred windows to doors, but these were special circumstances, and Kakashi did actually remember some of the manners he’d been taught over the years.  …Or possibly it was because it was almost eleven at night on a Friday.  Kakashi thrust out the book Iruka had lent him before the chuunin could say anything.

“Thank you for this – I enjoyed it.”

“Uh, you’re welcome.”  Iruka blinked in bewilderment but accepted the book and the small piece of paper that Kakashi had been holding on top of it.  As soon as he took the book, Kakashi shoved his hand back in his pocket.  Iruka flipped the paper over, read the message with the neutral expression of a professional, and then asked, “Would you like to come in for some tea?”

“Sure.”

The instant the door was closed, Iruka activated a rather impressive security and privacy seal and held up the note Kakashi had given him.

_I need your help._   (Simple and to the point.  Even just writing those four words had been hard.)

Iruka’s expression had gone from neutral to deeply concerned.

“What happened?  Are you hurt?”

“Ah, nothing so dramatic as that.”  Kakashi pulled his hands out of his pockets and allowed his muscles to relax so that the trembling showed.  He held them up for Iruka to see with a smile so fake it hurt.

“ _What_ -?!”

“About six years of severe dynamic denial and a lifetime’s worth of trust issues,” Kakashi informed him in a false-cheerful tone.

Iruka was staring at his shaking hands with undisguised horror, and Kakashi had the sudden urge to hide them again.  (Maybe he had made a mistake. Maybe Iruka was the wrong person to turn to after all.  Maybe nobody could help a sub as mentally screwed up as him.  Maybe no one would ever want to.)  He started to pull back his hands, but Iruka caught them gently.

“Hey, no, it’s okay.  You asked for my help, right?”  Iruka gave his fingers lightest of squeezes.  (It felt so _safe_.)  

Kakashi shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, yes-”

“So let me help you.”  Iruka quirked a smile at him, “It’s not like we’re rushing things.  We’ve already been dating for a month.”

“We have?”  Kakashi had _thought_ they had been, but he hadn’t been entirely sure.  (He’d been a little afraid that it was just wishful thinking on his part.)  Once again, social – not his strong point.

“Yes.”  Iruka seemed completely unphased by Kakashi’s question.  “So what do you need from me?”

Kakashi opened his mouth… and hesitated.  He didn’t actually know.  He wanted to… (feel safe).  He wanted to… (not be in charge).  (He wanted to go running back out the door, because something in his head was freaking out again.  Wasn’t this supposed to make him _less_ stressed?)

“I, uh….”  (He felt small and vulnerable and… scared.  Everything about this made him feel weak.)

Iruka was watching him with quiet patience.  Finally, he decided to take mercy on him.  Slowly, telegraphing his movements, Iruka shifted his grasp from Kakashi’s fingers to his wrist.

“How about I make that tea I offered?”

Instead of tensing up, Kakashi allowed himself to give into his instincts and relax into Iruka’s hold.

“Yeah.  That sounds… good.”

Iruka lead him to a small kitchen table, sat him down in a chair, and then refused all offers of help.

“You’re a guest, and besides, you’re in distress.  Pretty much all my protective instincts are being triggered.  Just be glad I haven’t tried to wrap you up in a blanket or something,” Iruka joked.  So Kakashi obediently sat and just observed. 

Iruka’s apartment was no bigger than his own, but where Kakashi’s felt like a barely lived in tomb (which was exactly what it was) Iruka’s felt warm and inviting and cozy.  Just sitting at the kitchen table watching tea being brewed, Kakashi could feel his body slowly relaxing, the tension easing out of his muscles a fraction at a time.  He hadn’t experienced such a sense of peace since the Kyuubi had attacked.

Kakashi reached up and pulled off his hitai-ate.  He was off duty.  (He was safe.)  This was something separate from his life as a shinobi.  (How strange was that?  There was more to his life than just being a tool.)  He stuck the forehead protector in his vest pocket and continued to watch Iruka as warmth and contentment permeated his senses.

By the time Iruka set a teacup in front of him, Kakashi’s mind felt slow and soft and slightly fuzzy around the edges, and he wasn’t even remotely concerned about it.  He stared blankly at the tea for a moment, contemplating the problem of drinking it.  Then he decided that masks were seriously overrated.  He pulled his mask down and slipped his drink thoughtfully.  It was just the right temperature.  His mind continued to drift pleasantly through cottony clouds.

“Kakashi….  Kakashi.”  Calloused fingertips pressed gently against his jaw, tilting his chin up.  Kakashi blinked at the kind brown eyes in front of him.  “Hey, there you are.  You started going down over your tea.”  Iruka pushed some of the silver hair out of Kakashi’s face, and Kakashi leaned instinctively into the touch.  His mind was still drifting, but some of the fuzz around the edges was starting to dissipate just a little.  “You really weren’t kidding about needing help, were you?” 

Kakashi just let out a soft puff of breath because the question had been rhetorical, and words took way too much effort.  Iruka was talking again, but Kakashi wasn’t listening.  His eye slid shut.  He’d happily curl up right here at the table and go to sleep.

“Hey, hey.”  Fingers were tapping his cheek.  Kakashi opened his eye and pouted.  “You can’t go to sleep just yet.  Are you on stand down?”

Kakashi had to think about that for a minute and then nodded vaguely.

“Yeah… two weeks.”  The words seemed awkward and tricky and tried to stick in his throat. 

“Okay, good.  You stay right here, all right?  I’m going to make up the couch for you.”

‘Stay right here.’  Yeah, Kakashi could handle that.  He was all over that.  Simple, clear instructions.  No decision-making required.  At this moment, he probably couldn’t decide his way out of a wet paper bag, but that was okay – Iruka had it covered.

 

Kakashi woke up slowly which was something he hadn’t done since he was, oh, six?  Seven?  (Waking up in the hospital and getting drugged on missions didn’t count.)  Despite the leisurely easing back into consciousness, his mind felt clearer and sharper than it had in… years.  He blinked up at the ceiling.  That definitely wasn’t his ceiling.  His ceiling had a crack fanning out from one corner like a lightning strike and a diamond-shaped kunai hole punched through the plaster.  This ceiling had a water stain that bore a remarkable resemblance to the Nidame’s head and a few scuff marks from where someone had paced on it barefoot.  (Minato-sensei used to pace on the ceiling when he was particularly agitated – it had driven Kushina nuts.)  Kakashi frowned at the water stain.  He must still be in Iruka’s apartment.  The angle and quality of the light suggested that he had slept long past his normal 6am. 

He took a moment to shuffle through his memories of the previous night.  Had- had he really dropped right down over a cup of tea?  It was mildly mortifying, but Kakashi was feeling so languid and relaxed at the moment, that he found it hard to really care.  Did he even have bones anymore?  Possibly not.  Oh, well – who needed them anyway?

Kakashi turned his head to the side.  His flak vest and gloves were in a neat pile on the low table next to him.  A book Kakashi hadn’t read before had been placed purposefully next to the pile.  A note was propped against the clothes.

_Gone out to get supplies for breakfast since the fridge is almost empty.  Hope you slept well.  Read the book or nap some more until I get back.  We can talk after breakfast. –Iruka_

Clear, concise, simple.  When Kakashi was young, he had _resented_ how soothing it felt to be told what to do when he wasn’t on duty.  Now it was just a relief – a pressure valve ever so slowly bleeding off the accumulated tension of almost a decade.  (He could _trust_ Iruka.  He really could.  He’d been so vulnerable last night, but he had been _safe_.  Iruka had treated him with understanding and _respect_.)

He reached out, lazily snagged the book from the table, and inspected the cover.  _A Subtle Death: the Poisons of Fire Country_.  Hm, sounded interesting.  Kakashi flipped it open to the first page.  His hands were completely steady.

Kakashi thought that Minato-sensei and Rin and Obito would understand if he was later visiting them today than usual.  (He thought that they would probably approve.)

He had reached out and asked for help.  (He had reached out and received a miracle.  He didn’t have to be a danger to anyone anymore.)

Kakashi allowed himself to be pulled into the contents of the book.  The author really knew her stuff. 

Chakra shifted as the traps around the apartment’s entrance were disarmed.  The door opened, and Iruka smiled at Kakashi, bright and sunny, over a paper bag of groceries,

“Good morning!  Glad to see you’re awake.”

Kakashi smiled back and lifted his book in greeting.  He couldn’t help himself.

“Good morning.”

(Kakashi wasn’t alone anymore.  _He wasn’t alone_.)


End file.
